Silent Step (Memory)

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.

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Race: Human
Profession: Assassin
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Silent Step (Memory)

Wed Jan 09, 2019 10:38 pm

20th Vhalar, 700

Cautiously, Aella walked through the house, gentle steps filling the hallway as the young girl made her way towards the downstairs. It was hard to sneak around the house they were in, loud echoes following every step. While she had spent some time practising the art of Stealth it had been near to futile thus far, especially in a place like this. But of course, Damon had intended it to be that way. Why live in a place where it was easy to sneak around when you had so many enemies? It also meant that training for Aella would be more efficient. That was what he had claimed at the very least, though the girl was too young to know any better. Whatever her Master told her was true, she was to believe it even if she knew otherwise. That was the way of a slave.

As she stepped around she heard her own echoes, forced to wear shoes as she walked down the marble stairs. Somewhere in the house was her Master waiting to make an approach, whether he would sneak out from behind a corner or from behind was beyond her. But it would happen one way, somehow. The young slave had come to expect failure. As of now it was a game of waiting to see how long she could last, though theoretically that would be as long as it took for Damon to grow bored of hiding and to start pursuing her. Sometimes it was instant, the trill she walked out of her door a knife put to her throat. Other times it took up to a Break. Each test had it's own meaning, a way of pushing the girl to new limits, always being aware and ready whether it had been a long night or the day had just begun.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs she paused for a moment, scanning the room with her eyes. Everywhere she went was a threat, every corner a potential attack. If she was going to survive she had to be aware at all times, ready to strike in a moments notice. Yet her eyes saw nothing. Nobody stood in the kitchen or hid in any of its corners, nobody watched her from the hallway branching out to the living area. As far as the eyes could see there was nobody, nothing but the morning light creeping through the windows and into the beautiful house. Yet not a sign of a person but herself in the building. It was impossible, she thought to herself. Even for a girl of her age she had functioning eyes, the house was fully lit. How did someone hide in conditions like this without just locking themselves in a room and waiting?

But that wasn't ever Damon's style. Besides, he had to sneak up on her eventually or wait for her to tire out. But that still meant he had to make an approach, somehow and some way. As she head in to the kitchen she paused, hearing her own echo for a moment. An idea formed in her head, the girl moving carefully to the kitchen table with light and cautious steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. When she arrived at the table her small hand moved cautiously to grip a collection of items that were bundled up, from pans to wooden spoons. If she could give herself a bit of time then she could run, moving somewhere that Damon hadn't expected. Pausing for a moment to listen, Aella began to count quietly in her own head, her thoughts whispering gently. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Immediately her hands shoved the mass of items off the table and she ran, the loud clattering giving her a little time to move. Quickly she ran across the room as pans slid and crashed across the floor, echoing through the entire house. After a few trills she made it to the hallway that led to the living room, pausing again as the crashing died down. Her eyes watched the kitchen for a trill to see if there was any approach but the room remained empty. Before she could turn back around a hand wrapped around her from behind, gripping her neck tight before taking her to the floor. As she looked up and the arm loosened Damon stood over her, moving away for a trill with an unamused expression.

"Aside from making a mess in my kitchen, what did you do wrong here, girl?" he asked, his voice low and gritty. Aella brought herself to her feet for a moment, wincing a little as she felt what would likely be a bruise soon enough from the takedown. "I don't know, sir" she confessed with a small glance down. Being a slave for a woman that hardly cared about her was much different to what this was. Damon always wanted her attention, always made her listen to his stories or lessons and she was expected to learn immediately. If she didn't then he would teach her the hard way, that much she knew already. It had only been a few seasons ago she had been taught about her real training and a bolt had almost planted in to her head. Now, at least, she was slow when opening her door.

Damon gestured back in to the hallway they stood in, sharp eyes pointing to where she had been stood. "If I had closed you off here what would you have done? Run in to a small room with me blocking your only exit?" he asked, eyebrow raised as he looked at the young girl. Before she could open her mouth to apologise he continued. "Standing in an open area was mistake number two. I couldn't have missed you if I tried. Hug walls, peek corners, make sure you are out of my sight not directly in the middle of it. Otherwise you are as good as dead for anyone with the slightest bit of range, and equally fucked if they decide to sneak up on you like I did."

After Damon had been silent for a few trills Aella looked up to him and nodded. "Yes sir. Sorry sir" she spoke, her voice formal and uniform. It was like her attitude had been shaped entirely by other people and their wishes and desires. Damon glanced to the mess in the kitchen and gestured for the girl to clean it, firm face looking down on her. With a gentle nod she made her way in to the kitchen and started picking up all the different items. All she could be thankful for was the lack of glass on the table when she had thrown it down. At least she wasn't sweeping up broken shards of glass for a Break like she had when Damon had a friend of his over. Sometimes it felt like he made her job hard on purpose, not that she cared too much about it. What defiance she had for slavery had been punished out of her by the time she reached six Arcs of age.

While she was picking up items her Master moved around the kitchen and began preparing food for their lunch. It was a strange thing to have someone cook meals for her, she thought. But his attitude had been one of a man who both enjoyed cooking and wanted all of her time spent training or resting. While she was a slave that had to do basic chores on the surface it was more of a discipline technique and a facade than something she was entirely meant to learn. Whether she could cook or not didn't mean a thing to him. She was to become a Harbinger one day, death was her art form.

"You did good, throwing the items" the man said to her as he cut expertly through vegetables. Aella paused as she was placing down the last pan, glancing back to him for a moment. When she saw he was paying her no attention she looked away again and returned to her job. "Thank you sir" she replied politely, eyes focusing forward as the last pan was placed back as she found it. Once the knife cut through the last chunk of carrot the man turned back to her, knife placed on the kitchen counter as he looked in to her eyes with an intense gaze. It was firm and harsh, yet there was nothing threatening about it. Perhaps Aella had just grown used to harsh in her life.

"Making sound to try and bait me was a good idea. But you lacked subtlety. Either way, girl, you're improving. At least a little" he admitted with a nod of his head. "Now go upstairs and make sure your room is spotless. We eat in half a Break. Afterwards, we need to work on your fighting a little bit. No point sneaking if you can't do anything when you're behind them. So go" he ordered. Aella nodded obediently and walked quickly up the stairs, her shoes echoing across the hallway as Damon finally let a small grin spread across his face.

Perhaps there was hope for the girl after all.

word count: 1562
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